Take Your Time
by pathtale
Summary: Guess what you work at Newbury Comics. I did(n't) do my best. (No Sburb AU) The fact of the matter is, this time you actually have to read and review. The title was bad but the story is good. The summary goes without saying. It will be multichapter. You're welcome. (how many of you noticed that I can't do summaries sometimes)


A/N: it appears that ive done it again plus since i just watched Puella Magi Madoka Magica i have seen everything in a new light you're welcome

* * *

== Be you.

* * *

You slipped into your uniform like a pro. It was your first day on the job at Newbury Comics, and you wanted to make a good impression. Looking at your watch, you decided that you had a good half hour until your shift, so you decide to check your tumblr. You're not famous, and you don't really care to be, but you do love the followers you have—a little up of 70. You wouldn't give them up for the world.

After 20 minutes or so, you decide to check your follower count. You don't know **why** exactly, but something compels you to. Upon inspection, you see that the count has gone from 73 to 74. You click on the link to see who's following you, and you see that somebody by the name of turntechGodhead has joined the follow (f/n) bandwagon. You check out their (his?) blog, and from what you can see it appears to be a mainly music blog. There is some artwork that is mediocre at best, and from what you gather it may be a comic of sorts. You look at your computer clock. Upon realizing that you're almost late for your shift, you jump up; close your tabs, slam your laptop shut, and race out the door.

Your last thought before you leave the house is that you're vaguely reminded of an anime where the main character is almost late for school and they run to school with toast in their mouth.

Wait. That's almost all of them….with the exception of Daily Lives of Highschool Boys.

* * *

You report to the manager. His name is Andrew, Andrew Hussie, he says. Are you ready for today, he says. You say you couldn't be any more ready than you are now. Good, he says. You are left a little unsure about the manager and the author's conversational format when he leaves after your strange little talk.

…Who's this 'author'?

Anyway. As you dutifully begin checking and restocking the merchandise, your friend Radic sends you a message. She was the one who suggested you should work here, and she works at the register (rumor has it that it's a desired job—you get to meet everyone). You check your messages.

hey – [received at 3:45 pm from Radic]

hey (nickname) – [received at 3:50 pm from Radic]

dude you there – [received at 3:51 pm from Radic]

say something I'm giving up on you – [received at 3:51 pm from Radic]

You smile at Radic's antics.

i'm here dude chill XD – [message sent at 3:52 pm]

i thought you were gonna tell me not to act so… - [received at 3:52 pm from Radic]

dude no dont pls – [message sent at 3:52 pm]

_/RADICAL/_ \- [received at 3:53 pm from Radic]

imma crey don't do this to me – [message sent at 3:53 pm]

hehe but it was p good tho – [message received at 3:53 pm from Radic]

anyway – [message received at 3:53 pm from Radic]

i need you to take my spot at the register

i have to do something. i'll be quick tho – [message received at 3:54 pm from Radic]

You look at your phone, surprised.

What? – [message sent at 3:55 pm]

kay thanks bey i owe you one – [message received at 3:55 pm from Radic]

*bye – [message received at 3:55 pm from Radic]

Wait, what!?

You take Radic's place at the cash register. You breeze through this job rather easily, and soon Radic returns with a cup of Starbucks coffee.

Even though she doesn't drink coffee.

She hands you the coffee, calling it a fulfilled IOU. She won't tell you where she went, or what she was doing. After you realize that she won't say anything, not matter what you try—within the limits of the law, of course—you return to the now boring job of restocking and rearranging, when suddenly a hand taps your shoulder. Without turning around and without hesitation, you chastise who you believe to be Radic and tell her to get back to her post. You expect to hear some complaint or horrible pun—she loves her puns—but that's not what you get.

Instead, a deep voice replies to your mild rant.

"Who, me? That post is so manned it's human."

You whip around in surprise and embarrassment.

"Oh! I'm sorry! I thought you were… I, uh… I…."

The young man, who you find to be rather handsome, smirks at you. He says something in response, but you are so busy committing his appearance to memory that you don't hear it. He's a tall kid, about 6 feet, you think, and he's wearing a white baseball shirt with red sleeves, a scratched record adorned in its middle. He's wearing black jeans, but you don't look there too long because…..You don't want to finish that. His shoes are red converse. A minor thought that occurs is that his feet are rather big, but you kick yourself in your mind because Radic has big feet too and you don't say that to her. (But she already knows, as you can tell from the many times she's told you that her shoe size is rather big.)

You tune back in in time to hear a statement that makes your face burn:

"Like what you see?"

"I—I—"You can't even speak straight, you're so nervous. The young man chuckles.

"Who is this 'Radic' anyway? Your boyfriend?"

Your face is about the temperature of the Earth's inner core.

"N-no! Radic's my friend! And she's a girl!" You're understandably flustered, your best friend has just been mistaken as your romantic partner/love interest.

(If Radic was your girlfriend there would be no point to this story.)

You're not exactly sure where that thought came from, but you brush it off.

"Then who /is/ Radic? I request to meet *him.*" He puts special emphasis on the pronoun.

You're not exactly sure what to do. You wish you were Radic. She'd probably be so smooth here, saying all the right things.

== Be Radic.

But you-

== BE RADIC.

Fine, fine. But that wasn't what you meant.

* * *

The cash register job is kind of boring. You don't know exactly _why_ you said it was the best job. You certainly didn't expect people to believe you. You guess you have more influence than you thought.

Earlier you wandered around the mall and went to GameStop. You really needed to stretch your legs. You bought a few games, mostly 3DS games, but you had your GBA SP (A/N: Game Boy Advance SP), and you played a few games with one of the workers, another friend of yours. After a while, you realized that you had to go back to work before Hussie noticed, because you didn't want to go into his office.

Again.

You don't want to think about that.

You run out the door, speed to Starbucks, and buy what you believe to be (f/n)'s favorite coffee.

You mull over that.

_DID (F/N) DRINK THE COFFEE?_

_ WHERE DID THE COFFEE GO?_

(A/N: i forgot about the coffee so now its back)

You are scared by your pointless train of thought. Suddenly you get an idea for a good fanfiction about life and love and shipping friends with characters from…..from what?

Anyway, you're at work. You can't write it right now.

Oh? It seems that (f/n)'s walking towards you, along with some dude.

What, were you supposed to call him hot? (A/N: *You expected me to call him hot? Too bad! I don't do that* *shot for referencing*) A better word to describe him would be _tall._

(f/n) is probably just showing him where the registers are.

In a fit of boredom, you slam your head on the counter.

Let's be someone else. Radic is currently suffering from…..from…..something. I don't know. You don't get a choice on who to be this time.

You are at _MY _mercy now.

* * *

*and the crowd goes wild radic has done it again shes written a pointless story without a summary lets go three cheers for radic*

*muffled punshots*


End file.
